Nargal
by Zagury
Summary: Ginny and Luna welcome the newest addition to the family and muddle over some of the more curious things in life.
1. Nargal

A/N: Written for Adena, because I'm her DHW-Y and she is just wonderful and the conversations with her a priceless.

I couldn't figure her out most of the time. Of course, this was customary, as she _was_ Luna Lovegood, after all, but really, you'd think that after growing up with her and dating her for the longest time, you'd pretty much get a feel for what she'd do or what she'd say.

Then again, if I knew such things, Luna wouldn't be half as interesting.

"Luna, what _are _you doing with a kitten?" I ask her when I put my keys on the counter and shrug off my cloak and join her on the floor. It's a red kitten, but blotched a strange blonde in some spots, and he's just adorable, really.

"I've always wanted a kitten, didn't you know?" She scratches him behind the ears and he purrs noisily. I laugh, because secretly, I've always wanted one to, but she seems to know that I love him already because she topples him into my welcoming arms.

"What're we going to name him?" I ask, rubbing his belly and his sides and he just gazes up at me with those big fond eyes and I reckon that things with this little guy will be fine.

"I can't think of a good name just yet. I was waiting for you to get home and maybe we would think of something." Luna says, leaning over to kiss me briefly. "Welcome home, by the way." She smiles her very Luna-y smile, so I return my very Ginny-like smile and hope that she understands that I'm thrilled with the new little kitten.

"He's so cute, just look at him," I mumble while the cat plays with my hair, nipping and trying to climb my arms. Luna laughs and smiles serenely as she watches me with him, the newest addition to our family. "You've taken his claws out, I suppose?"

"Yes, I know how you hate scratches from Quidditch and all, so I took the liberty of getting them out." I lean up to kiss her again, her hand fisting in my hair before I've realized it. The kitten's attention turns to one of Luna's braids and I laugh as he tumbles into Luna's lap, but our lips are still pressed together sloppily.

"You really are fantastic," I tell her, my hands braiding a few longer strands that travel down to her waist. She mutters something under her breath, but I'm sure she's talking to the kitten again so I brush it off. I start humming one of our favourite songs; one of those that you get introduced to and you can't help but love, sort of like this little ball of red hair and tufts of blonde.

She hums along with me once she gets the tune, which doesn't take her long. He's trying to climb over her shoulders, trying to use her as some kind of playground, but I just watch the utter happiness on her face and can't help but love the little guy.

I rest my forehead against her free shoulder, my hands still moving under and over, under and over with her soft, soft blonde hair. I feel her kiss my head for a moment before she's playing with the kitten again, his tiny paws reaching out for the braid I'm so diligently working on. She holds out a finger and he holds on like it's his lifeline.

I kiss the bare skin of her shoulder instead of reaching out for her finger.

She sighs a little, though I can't tell from my gesture or the kitten's. Her arm wraps around me, her other around him, and she pulls us both in real close. I can smell the usual hint of candy canes and old wooden chairs on her, wondering what the kitten will end up smelling like because he'll be Luna's, after all.

"Happy birthday, Ginny," she whispers against my hair. I smile into her neck, my hands leaving her braids and my arms going around her in a tight embrace. I kiss her jaw, her cheek, her nose before her lips, and she sighs contentedly. I hum the familiar tune against her mouth and the buzz from my tongue makes us both giggle. But then she's kissing me deeper and the kitten is somewhat forgotten between our chests.

Her free hand goes into my hair again, twisting and knotting and grasping the back of my head like she always does. I shift against her body, trying to pull myself closer but I think I just end up squishing him more than he's already be squished, to be honest. She laughs at his futile 'mrow' in protest and pulls away from my lips, mimicking him and humming to him. I grin and take him into my hands. He curls into my cheek and it's comfortable with him and Luna right there.

"I've got the perfect name," I say, nuzzling him closer to my nose.

"Do you?"

"Yeah. How about Nargal?"

Luna beams.

"It's perfect."


	2. Sigh

There are a million different things I could say about Luna Lovegood.

One of them would be this:

Sigh.

Sigh because she's fantastic, wonderful, brilliant in the ways she thinks of things, the way she accepts things without a single doubt. Sigh because she's honest and forgiving and she doesn't care if you're royally screwed because she's Luna. Sigh because she's irresistible most of the time, and sigh because there are a million different things to know about her, to notice about her.

Like when she comes home everyday, she checks her pockets—all of them, though even I've lost count, and let's face it, I'm pretty good at keeping track of these things—for whatever she checks them for. Or the first task she does after that routine is take the yellow butterfly clip out of her hair and put in on the kitchen counter. And even after that, she comes to find Nargal and I sitting in the living room, flipping through the Prophet or napping or maybe I'm humming to him when she's been gone particularly long that day.

We've only been living together for a few months, but I suppose it's definitely enough to know this about Luna Lovegood, and it's enough to conjure a sigh whenever I think about her.

So today, when she walks in the door, I call her over immediately. She doesn't hesitate to come visit the young kitten and I, sitting upright while he's curled against my stomach. He purrs as I rub that spot behind his ears and she smiles because she was the one to discover it first.

"Welcome home," I say, and she leans down to kiss me. I push Nargal off of me, standing to her height. She looks at me curiously but doesn't mutter a word, just kisses me again.

I let my hands dig into her pockets, searching for anything out of the ordinary. She holds out her arms and still doesn't question me. I wonder briefly if she knew I was going to do this, but then discard the thought because she probably did anyway. My fingers brush a few necklaces and bracelets; a few scraps of parchment and shrunk quills; a few charmed-shut bottles of ink; but I mainly feel the ring I gave her on her birthday and I pull it out.

"Why aren't you wearing it?" I mumble, brushing a few strands of hair out of her face. She holds up her hands and they are a strange shade of red.

"I don't want to get it dirty." She says, her eyes bright.

I groan. "You promised you would stop doing experiments."

"I did. I haven't broken any promises."

"Then what's this all about?" I say, taking her hand in mine and bringing it to my lips. My tongue traces over the lines on her palms, the creases on her fingers. I make sure that my mouth is working her hand into something like pastry dough, and I'm confident that it's working. I pressure the pads of her fingers and she just watches me, her eyes half open and I, Ginny Weasley, am making Luna Lovegood struggle for words.

"Erm… Neville and I… we found some Fanged Geraniums… he wanted me to help him with… erm, milking some of the poison out."

"Is the poison red?" My eyes meet hers but I don't stop my movements on her hand.

"This isn't the poison… they fuss quite a bit when you… grab hold of their fangs… and they pus."

"I see," I reply, but I just pull her into me and kiss her again.

Luna's hands go instinctively into my hair, my arms falling around her waist as easily as it was for my mother to cook. I pull her flush against me, a small chest against a small chest and slim hips against narrow. Nargal wraps himself around our ankles, twirling and making his little kitten noises but we can't hear him because we're pulling each other into the sofa, still kissing, still knotting hair and trying to remove clothes.

First, it's my hands pulling her blouse over her head and then it's me kissing her bare shoulders, running up and down her back. Then it's her nimble fingers working on the buttons of my jeans, pulling them off and exposing pale thighs, her fingers gripping onto muscle and then realeasing. After that, it's my hands undoing the clasp of her bra and kissing her neck and wanting to feel her bare skin against mine. And even after that, it's Luna's fingers running under my shirt and making me frustrated and making me writhe.

Against my ear, she whispers, "Come on, Ginny," and then I'm not in control anymore.

All I'm aware of is her hands pulling the rest of my clothes off after I beg her and she smiles that wicked smile of hers when she knows she's got a leg or four over me. I'm barely aware of Nargal sitting next to us, licking his paws and acting uniterested when we know he wants the attention he deserves, but I'm not giving it to him because Luna is kissing me again, hard and swift and full.

And then our small chests are bare against each other and I'm gasping, and suddenly our breasts don't feel so small anymore. Suddenly they feel perfect and just right and god, they feel wonderful. But it's when Luna makes me feel better about my small features, when she caresses and kisses and makes me moan, that's when I don't care that I'm small, I just want them to be good enough for her.

It's when the heat between my legs turns into moisture that's almost embarrassing because of how much I _want_ her. But she just smiles and she knows what to do and she _loves me_, and that's all I care about.

And then it's only a while later that we're sitting there with her lying on top of me, her eyes closed, her head resting on my chest. My hands are in her hair and we're still breathing a little heavily, still covered in sweat but we really don't care because it doesn't matter.

"Luna," I mumble against the dirty blonde of her hair, against the yellow of her butterfly clip.

"Ginny," she breathes against my skin, her fingers making nice circles on my shoulder.

"I love you," I say quietly, and for a moment I think that maybe I didn't say it loud it enough, strong enough, and for a moment I think that maybe it was just a meaningless whisper.

Instead, she moves so that her eyes are level with mine. I hold my breath.

"I know." She blinks and looks at me with those big, wonderful eyes and I suddenly feel a little stupid.

"I've just… I've never said it. How… how can you know?" I feel insecure and strange and not at all like I normally feel around Luna. She just puts a hand on the side of my face and lets the warmth of her palm spread into my skin, and I do feel it, I really do.

"Ginny," she starts, her fingers moving so that they are caressing just my temple. "You're the only one who thinks about noticing what I put in my pockets or what I wear in my hair. You're the only one that understands my… loonieness. You're the only one that accepts me for me, no strings attached. You're the only one that doesn't ask why or what or how, you just let me do what I want to do. No one that I've ever been with has ever done that." She speaks quietly, her eyes directed on the freckle on my neck—or so I think—but I don't know because I'm staring at the scar beneath her ear.

My hands move across her back, skin on skin, palm against smooth, pale, liquid skin. She lets out a breath I didn't know she was holding. I let out mine.

"It's hard not to notice those things," I mutter.

"Most people are too busy looking at my earrings or my shoes or my robes. You're the only one to think of looking somewhere else." She smiles a little and Nargal jumps on her back just as her lips meet mine.

"But for your consent," she whispers against my lips, a small smile forming on them. "I love you, too."

Sigh.

Nargal offers a simple 'mrow' in agreement.


End file.
